


Back in black

by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Back Pain, Early in Canon, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 03:25:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17052185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeousnerd/pseuds/Gorgeous%20Nerd
Summary: If Hell existed, Dean was definitely being damned for his sins.Or: Dean hurts his back on a job and proceeds to complain about it.





	Back in black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puchuupoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puchuupoet/gifts).



> Wow, can't believe it's been over six years since I last posted in this fandom. I wrote this in the middle of the night when I wasn't feeling well (for non-back-injury reasons, although I definitely also had that this year) and my usual distraction methods weren't working, so puchuupoet kindly stepped in and suggested we swap fic prompts.

The job was the same as it always was, with slight differences in location. Eastern Nevada, middle of nowhere, chasing some kind of rat beasts, dirt and dust and darkness too thick to see through, stumbling a couple times when the ground was uneven. Crappy motel with crappy water pressure followed by a crappy night's sleep on a crappy mattress.

But hey, at least a truck stop had a decent crappy burger for dinner. Dean was very happy with the burger.

He was less happy the next day when he was picking up his clothes from the floor of the bathroom, bent over on the floor, and his back spasmed. He dropped to a knee with a grunt.

"Dean?" Sam was between the beds in the main room. "You okay?"

Dean unclenched his teeth to call back. "Fine. Just pissed I'm gonna have to do laundry again so soon."

Sam didn't challenge him, but he probably should have. Dean tried to right himself, and his back had no interest in straightening out. He knelt down again, more carefully, and his back eased, but his knees didn't like the crappy mat anymore than the rest of his body liked the rest of the crappy room.

"Damn it," Dean muttered.

"You're not..."

Dean looked over his shoulder and barely suppressed a wince when his back complained. Sam was frowning in the doorway.

"Jerking off?" Dean said, a slight edge to his voice.

"Praying?"

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam relaxed, patting the laptop in his hands.

"I'm just about ready to go," he said. "How about you?"

They had been looking at a place six hours north for the next job. Six hours in the car, with a seat that didn't adjust, and of course Dean would drive because, if he didn't, Sam would figure it out and he'd have to...whatever the hell Sam would make Dean do. 

If Hell existed, Dean was definitely being damned for his sins.

"Just finishing up here," Dean said, leaning over to mess with his clothes. He didn't manage to suppress the grimace that time, but at least he didn't make any noise.

"You okay?" Sam asked again, but his voice was more suspicious. Crap.

"Will you quit asking me that?"

"I will when you stand up."

Well, Dean couldn't let that pass. He grabbed his dirty jeans and struggled to his feet. He thought he did a pretty good job, even if he was a bit hunched over. He gave Sam a "see?" expression.

Sam, however, had his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

"Do you need my help getting back in bed, or can you make it on your own?"

"What?" Dean scowled. "Sam, I'm--"

"Completely obvious."

"Shut up and get in the car. I'll be there in a minute."

"Fine. If you walk to the bed without making a sound, I'll get in the car."

Dean smirked. Too easy. He pushed past Sam...and ended up grunting under his breath until he reached the nearest bed a few steps away. He leaned on it when he reached it, panting hard.

"Yeah," Sam said, voice dripping in sarcasm. "You're totally fine."

"I _am_ ," Dean snapped, but he also eased himself onto the bed and ended up on his back. He moved his legs around to find something comfortable, and when he failed, he starfished with a disgruntled huff. "Just go to the gas station and get me a beer. I'll be fine after a few hours."

Sam adjusted his plaid shirt with a grin. "I'll be back. Call me if you need me to take you to the hospital."

Dean tried to grab for the pad of paper on the bedside table to throw at Sam's head, but a whimper escaped him when he tried to move.

He stared at the water stain in the ceiling over his bed.

"Damn it," he said.

-

Sam came back loaded down with plastic bags.

"What part of 'I'll be fine in a couple hours' do you not understand," Dean said as Sam put the bags on the table near the door, but it came out mild. Dean was bored. Fine if he didn't move, but extremely bored.

Sam opened a bottle of water. "You might as well relax. I paid up through the week."

"You...with what? My gambling money? That was supposed to last us a while."

"I'll go get more." Sam handed Dean the water bottle and some Advil.

"This doesn't look like beer." Dean still took them gratefully, and tilted his head enough to swallow them without choking. He flopped back on the bed.

"Where does it hurt?" Sam asked, rummaging back through the bags.

"It doesn't." Dean rolled his eyes when he saw Sam pull out heating pads and ice packs. "Jesus, Sam, I'm a little sore. My back isn't broken."

"I wouldn't have gotten this stuff for a broken back. Roll over."

Dean shuddered. "Let the medicine kick in first, okay? I want to take a nap."

Sam backed off. He probably knew just as well as Dean did that he had no interest in accepting any additional help, but Dean was just relieved Sam was giving him a break.

Whatever. Dean really would be fine in a little while.

-

Dean slept a lot of the day and woke up the next day ready to leap out of bed and fight evil.

His back, however, was not ready, and the twinges turned into full on burning.

He climbed back in bed.

"Heating patches?" Sam asked.

" _No._ "

-

Dean accepted a heating patch on day three. He was pissed that Sam was right about them. And that Sam was accumulating a decent stack of money from the dive bars in the area. Dean would have killed to hustle pool.

Actually, he had killed those monster things. That was the problem.

-

Dean gave up pretending things were okay on day six. He demanded Sam fill up the terrible bathtub with ice, and he alternated between that and heating pads until the ice had melted and the water had gone lukewarm. At least he could pretend he was a football player between games.

He felt well enough after the ice that he hit Sam with a pillow when Sam suggested giving him a back massage. It made his back twinge more, but Sam's disgruntled face was worth the setback.

-

Apparently, the internet was telling Sam that Dean had to get out of bed for little walks whenever possible, and Dean was grateful enough by day eight - Sam had only sacrificed a tiny bit of his money pile to extend their stay - that he didn't even gripe about what a shitty town West Wendover was.

He did gripe, however, about his back.

"This is how it starts," he grunted, shuffling in the dirt lot next to their shitty motel.

Sam sighed. "Dean."

"Guys like us don't get to old age. They get sloppy, careless, unlucky..." Dean snapped his fingers. "And that's it."

"You hurt your back, Dean. It's not like you're terminal."

"This crap only gets worse. You know that."

Sam stopped where he was hovering by Dean's elbow. Dean refused to lean on him for anything, but it didn't stop Sam from staying close.

"Does that mean you'll finally let me take you to a doctor?"

Dean grunted and continued shuffling.

-

They were in a clinic the next morning.

"Should have come in sooner," the doctor said in a voice way too chipper for seven in the morning. "You're young and healthy, and you could have healed up by now. You'll be lucky if you don't need physical therapy."

Before Dean could snarl at the man, who was far too groomed and sparkling for this crapheap of a town, Sam said, "Is there a cheaper option?"

"Sure. It's sciatica, so nothing that serious." The doctor reached for a prescription pad. "Just rest and take some muscle relaxers, and you should be right as rain in another week."

"Christo," Dean muttered at the man. His eyes remained stubbornly human, and Sam smacked Dean's arm.

-

Three days into the additional week of rest Dean was getting, and he was well enough to sit up and watch TV for a couple hours without too much discomfort.

"Thanks, Sam."

Sam was busy researching on his laptop; searching out leads to send to Bobby, he said, while they were on the DL. Not that Sam was chained to Dean's side, of course. Sam could have gone out and hunted by himself. But he never said a word about it. Never did more than call Dean on his crap when he was being too whiny.

Sam looked up from his laptop. "For what?"

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam smiled at him.

**Author's Note:**

> If it's worth anything at this point, [my Tumblr](http://gorgeousnerd.tumblr.com/).


End file.
